


Reflection

by Min_Yeonsang, Rosa_Greano



Category: Journey of Three Witches, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Depression, Don't let the tags scare you away, Drug Abuse, Fluff, Multi, Seizures, this is mostly fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2018-12-09 19:18:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11675409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Min_Yeonsang/pseuds/Min_Yeonsang, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosa_Greano/pseuds/Rosa_Greano
Summary: No matter how far we are in to the darkness, often times redemption is still there; waiting for us.





	1. Prologue - Vocivus

**Author's Note:**

> Let's go on a journey about building a new self from the wreckage of an old self and maybe, just maybe we'll learn a thing or two to be grateful of our lives.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Under an old bridge, a star almost goes out

Prologue – Vocivus

* * *

 

_““– emptiness, void, vacuum, the absence of all existence””_

* * *

 There is not much else than the darkness. Not that he expects anything more. Faintly, if he forces his scrambled up brain to focus, Namjoon can hear the dirty water rushing away in the canal nearby. In the corner of a god forsaken neighbourhood, under a wrecked bridge which is indecisive about collapsing or not; he lies and he lies, just like the way he had started to lie to all of his loved ones one by one. He finally lies to himself as well, inevitably, inescapably. 

‘Death will be my release. I’ll finally be free.’ he thinks, at least he tries, as much as he can manage. His body is collapsing on top of his consciousness, withdrawal symptoms crushing his existence. He can tell that not much is left for him in this twisted world, not anymore since he can’t even feel the sting of gaping holes at his arms where liquid death was injected in the shape of a day dream.

Namjoon had thought that he could control it; that he was smarter, more sensible than his body’s responses to a bunch of chemicals. And now, he doesn’t even have to, doesn’t even need to admit how wrong he was; he is dying. Every breath feels like a last one as he can feel his self, his essence being detached from his flesh container.

In a weak attempt resembling a final wish, Namjoon tries to turn his body up from where he face-planted when his seizures began. By some grace , probably due to this actually being his last wish or more probably he is in a death rush, he manages to move.

He is so far from the city center, so far from all the light pollution that even his barely working eyes touch up to some stars. Tiredly, he forces his eyeballs to slide around, trying to take in the night sky.

Maybe he isn’t seeing a million stars like he is supposed to, maybe he is just seeing a handful of bright spots which are millions of light years away but it’s enough. It’s enough to make him feel small. Very minuscule and incredibly stupid. In this gigantic, humongous universe he was given a life; he was given maybe a thousand different chances, a thousand different options and here he is under a rundown bridge, dying. Wasting everything that has been bestowed upon himself, every gift and every pleasure and every chance. He feels so stupid, so inhumanly imbecile that his eyes do a thing they haven’t done for a long time. They start catching moisture from the corners.

His heart is racing uncomfortably within his ribs; fighting something, fighting itself probably. His stomach is churning and it’s hard to breathe, something is clogging his throat and Namjoon finds himself too tired to even try to fight back, too tired to even gasp for air. He is drowning within his own body and has no one else but himself to blame. He can't even blink back the fat tears forming.

“I was so stupid.” He tries to mutter but ofcourse he can’t actually talk, his tongue is a dead weight within his mouth, dry and sticky, feeling more like a soggy sandpaper than a muscle he possesses. He had expected not being able to talk but he hadn’t expected that he wouldn’t even be able to clearly hear his own voice within his thoughts. His brain is so overly stuffed and truly empty at the same time; it’s like a black hole which sucks in everything and leaves nothing but a writhing, buzzing emptiness.  A useless and irritating void which contrasts painfully with his usually colorful and loud thoughts,  contrasting with the core of his being. He tries again anyway, despite the fact there is no one within his mind to hear his pleas, not even himself.

“I was so stupid. I wasted everything, and despite not deserving anything, I wish I could atone. I want to go back, I want just one more chance, a final one…” the words he is trying so hard to maintain within his conscious are also sucked into the bottomless abyss, the hole in his brain.  As a single tear slides down his cheeks, Namjoon tries to remember something, anything. Despite his struggles, he can’t even recall his own face properly. How pitiful, what a waste.

Even though his eyes are open, his vision slowly starts to fade to dark from the edges. With his final breath, he tries to distinguish the thin line of new moon up in the sky. He fails. Something obscures his vision, like a solar eclipse and ofcourse Namjoon can’t even make out the shape to be something humanoid. He somehow feels being grabbed though, and he assumes that probably his soul is being extracted from his body and he just lets it; ready to fade into the darkness. Ready to become nothing, he closes his unseeing eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to "I'm suffering from feelings might aswell make others suffer with me". This work will contain lot's of angst due to who I am as a writer but fear not, good times will come, hopefully. Angry? Come yell at me in any way or form, I accept it since I probably deserved it.


	2. 1 - Recordatio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The phenomena of the life flashing past a person’s eyes is often more literal then one would think

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus, the author proves how inconsistent they are even from the first chapters, where is the enthusiasm, where is the will to write? 
> 
> (Thank you so much Rosie dear for proof reading this and giving awesome suggestions ;)  
> If there are any mistakes, which probably there is, please don't shy away from enlightening me!)

Chapter 1 – Recordatio

* * *

 

 _““– recollection, memory, recalling, unavoidable_ _reminiscence of a distant past_ _””_

* * *

 

The world is another name for despair.

Kim Namjoon had learned this at a very, very young age.

Even at the age where he could barely remember his name and age, or even before that perhaps, his parents had defined his destiny for him.

“Ofcourse he is going to be a respectable business man and inherit the family business.”

Ofcourse. What a certain use it was for something as undeterministic as future. However, they were parents, more specifically parents who had the money and the means to make their child bow to them so it was fine to them. Ofcourse Namjoon would go to business or management, be a CEO, make them proud, and hold up the family name.

It wasn’t like Namjoon could like engineering or science, or music, or philosophy.

The day when they found out Namjoon was intelligent, more than enough to fulfil their desired seat as the next CEO of Kim Corporate, they were surely rejoiced. Namjoon was too small to understand what this meant at that time and when he was old enough to understand, it was already far too late.

What he desired as a human being, as a healthy and capable member of the society, was unimportant to his guardians whom were so caught up in their self-fulfilling fantasy. Every try from the young boy in the sense of a rebellion was supressed with harsh punishmrnts and senseless discipline. It hadn't been too hard to kill every ounce of fight the pliant boy had in him. And when that happened, Namjoon was reduced to half a man of what he could be, soulwise. Therefore, he followed, through primary school to the private high school he got full scholarship from. To the business school and to the MBA after his trial years in the business. Where his parents wanted, he went, despite being less enthusiastic and more jaded each time his opinions were disregarded.

Despite the baseless assumptions of many, Kim Namjoon was not a pessimist. His mind was layered thoroughly with thick realism, thanks to his cynical father, it wasn’t his fault that the world was more black than white.

It was on one of the days when he was abroad; working on his past bachelor development that he came across with her. Namjoon was taken in by the warm and welcoming aura of the café and he was anchored in by the beautiful and intelligent server that served him, whose hair glittered like liquid gold under warm fluorescent lights, whose brown eyes were warmer than the coffee she brought to him.

Unlike most people, Namjoon had realised that day that, the string of fate attached to his ring finger was not a scarlet color but the golden yellow of her hair.

Unbeknown to him, his favourite colour wasn’t navy or purple, not even black. It was the warm, honey brown of her eyes as the light shone through her irises, merging with the glimmer of joy reflecting from within.

Before he realised how hard he fell for her, she had already started feeling like home, feeling like belonging, freedom, and acceptance. She was everything Namjoon wished his family to be but never was. Before he knew, the coffee shop had become his safe haven, that warm smile had become his antidote.

Months passed the way they were supposed to, and the small bickering between Namjoon and the golden angel changed, gradually and slowly, but still significantly.

First, it was small flirtatious remarks, accompanied by small breaks spent on the corner Namjoon liked to occupy every day. Soon Namjoon was coming in at hours when café was closed, just to chat about the history of music and poetry with her. On one rainy afternoon, he had found enough guts to ask her out and when she said yes, Namjoon was sure that he had experienced the brightest moment of his life despite the dark gray weather outside. Afterwards was a faster time lapse of dates sprinkled across their busy weeks, short moments of soft kisses and songs made just for the other. Soon, private nights and happier mornings followed this procedure.

For maybe the first time in his life, Namjoon was truly happy.

In fact, he was so happy, so full of love for her that his usual realism had faded to optimism. A bad development. It was for this reason he had offered her to meet his family. A bad offer. Ofcourse she had agreed to meet his parents. A bad decision.

There was disrespect and bitterness on the table, words much sharper than the table utensils were served instead of food. They had left the house hungrier than they had entered, hungry for acceptance, for compassion, for love. In the empty places of all these things they were craving for, bitter emotions had dripped to fill the voids; anger boiling and rage seething, red and black and dangerous.  He feels his knuckles whiten and crackle due to the firm, chokehold like grasp he had on the steering wheel. Reassurances offered by his significant other were ignored with the heat of his disgust and embarrassment, forcing him to keep this rare mixture of brewing calamity he had within. To not be merciful or forgiving like how his calm nature suggested. To hold on be vengeful. 

In that singular moment of weakness, of distraction borns destruction. Suddenly there is a wayward truck that is going too fast aswell and in the blink of an eye; every rule of universe that keeps things intact is lifted, everything is bursting out and apart. Someone is screaming, the entire existence is screaming before he can do anything else than pour out the air in his lungs as shrill sound waves, he loses. He loses his love, he loses his life, his soul, his heart, his past, his future, his mind, his babies, everything.

He is lost, he had lost, and from that point onwards, he never breaks this filthy streak of losing.

The moment he wakes  after the accident in the hospital, the moment his frantic eyes land on the caretakers, their faces sour with the news they carried under their tongues, of news that were not actually news because Namjoon already knew what he lost the moment he did. Even before they managed to open their mouths, Namjoon is screaming, picking up from where he left in the car crush because how can he not when his mind is a gaping hole and the place where his heart is supposed to be doesn’t even exist anymore. How can he not when a single body is subjected to so much grief, so much loss in such a short amount of time so he keeps screaming until he blacks out again.

In the limbo of his own mind, a single bitter emotion slowly forms, so intricately and so poisonous; quite like a flimsy branch of an ivy on a big, healthy tree  At the beginning, it’s almost non-existent, so faint and so insignificant in the shadow of Namjoon’s grief, in the volume of his screams. However, the time passes. When his throat is dry, his mind unable to comprehend this constant chain of losing anymore, the emotion had reared its ugly head to whisper a single sentence. Just once, because just once was enough, enough to make it echo in the empty mind scape of this broken man, enough to start like a snow drop let down from a cliff. So insignificant and unimportant at the beginning but so destructive and dangerous towards the ends.

“ _It’s all your fault.”_

The echoes had began.

And they ate him alive.

Despite all, Namjoon had even learned to stop the screaming, atleast externally. He had msnaged so much to return to 'living'. He just couldn’t find a way to fight this and he was being cornered, being destroyed. Because regret was so big now, so powerful and so righteous and Namjoon was getting crushed under it.

A simple solution had dawned to his fried mind an lonely evening.

 _"If you can’t shut down the regret, shut down your whole mindscape_."

And in theory, somehow, it had made sense. Soon enough, Namjoon was an expected resident of local bars, at war with his own mind, drinking his weight in alcohol but ofcourse it wasn’t enough. How could it be if he didn’t keep losing? It was easy to get involved in drugs. It was so easy to get lost in the hallucinative daydreams where he could be with his love, where he could be with his children, where he could be happy. Nevertheless, it wasn’t enough, it was never enough, and how could it be? After all when the haze ended, he was back to his cruel reality and how could he tolerate that?

Dosages increased on par with the running days and soon enough no pills, no powders was enough; soon enough his arms were littered with countless holes, his eyes glassy and blind to the real world; his mind long disintegrated.

When his wallet started getting as thin as his humanity was where the real problems had  began. For him the end was near, no matter he found the money or not, and surely enough death must had chosen the underside of an old bridge for his pitiful end. Or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just have so much to do but when an idea comes, I can't have peace without letting it out. Next chapter hopefully we'll have some current time developments? Namjoon will wake up, hopefully.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, drop a kudos or a comment, I'll be thankful anyway. Has more to say? Find me at Tumblr, Instagram or Twitter under the same name.  
> I love you, be safe.


End file.
